The Lover, The Fool
by Matron Ginafae
Summary: As they attend their final year, four friends must prepare to leave school and enter a troubled world. Sirius must learn to overcome his prejudices. A valiant attempt to break from the MWPP era cliche.


Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all characters, ideas, and settings associated with him are the property of JK Rowling. I write this, not for profit, but for my own amusement.

Authoress Note: I'm sick of the cliches of the MWPP era. It seems that all the fics are written to the same basic formula: James as brainless, arrogant and Lily-obsessed, Sirius as a brainless ladies' man and player, Remus as a bookworm, and Peter (if depicted at all) as a pathetic loser. Also, I've got a problem with MWPP ALWAYS being displayed at Weasleyesque pranksters who make pudding rain from the ceiling. I'm not a stickler for canon, but they were troublemakers, not necessarily pranksters- one can get in trouble in other ways. I like seeing Sirius covered in chocolate sauce as much as the next gal ( XD ), but it does get rather old and annoying.

I am going to do my absolute best to break the cliche.

-Chapter One-

-Hogwarts, 1977-

She watched them through bird's eyes, these four young, handsome boys, undeniably clever.

James Potter. Good-looking, of course, though more 'cute' than classicly handsome. A happy person, admirably confident. One could see, simply by looking into his eyes, that this boy- young man, rather- had a good heart, good intentions. James Potter sang his way through life, carefree and grinning. There were very few people or things that James disliked. Nearly everyone was in his good graces. People were drawn to James; he was a leader, the brave captain who could lead his men anywhere, even to the death, yet still care for each of them.

Remus Lupin. Not eye candy, certainly, but handsome in his own quiet way. He was more subtle than flamboyant James. He smiled more often than he grinned, a gentle, intelligent smile. At times, a heartwrenching sadness lingered in his eyes. On the surface, he was the responsible one, the studious one. Once one looked deeper, however, one could see the mischief he delighted in. Dedicated and respectful, Remus accepted all for whom they were; he went past simply tolerating others. He befriended them. Remus was the true friend. One could confide in Remus- he would listen carefully and without judgement.

Peter Pettigrew. Stocky and sturdy Peter. Less popular, less clever than the rest. He was strongest with his friends, who could bring out the courage hidden within him. A lover of mischief, Peter was the doer, the worker. Given time, he could brew any potion, arrange any spell. While another could reel off an answer in a few quick moments, Peter took his time, worked slowly and cautiously. His work was, if not extraodinary or innovative, thorough and thought-out. Peter was the little guy, the average Joe, not a brilliant thinker, but essential nonetheless.

And then, there was Sirius Black. Roguishly, effortlessly handsome. Haughty. Not only denied the girls who approached him, but ignored them completely. He struggled always to rise above the intolerance and greed of his upbringing, struggled to overcome his own prejudices. He thought himself smarter, stronger, more cunning then any other, often overthought and made things more complicated than they had to be. Sirius was the passionate one, the lover; he loved very few, but those he did, he loved deeply and boundlessly. His was a complex love, intermixed with ultimate loyalty and uttermost need. Very few were they he called his friends, but each was as dear to him as a brother, and each he would willingly follow to the end of the world.

Watching them walk the grounds, Beryl might have smiled, had she been in her human form.

-

"A bit late to wander the grounds, is it not?" a smokey, shadowy voice mocked. All four boys looked left, where the speaker slid from the shadows of the trees.

She was an unhealthily and unattractively thin girl, black-gloved, who wore her robes with a Slytherin patch. Silky black hair flowed down to her mid-back, falling across a pale white face. The only color about her was the green trim of her robes and her bright aquamarine eyes. In them glittered icy contempt. With a catlike grace, she circled around to stand in front of the boys. "James," she purred. "How good to see you, cousin."

"Beryl," he acknowledged, dislike lining his voice. Beryl laughed. "Such hatred." she commented. "Will you hex me, now? Reveal my drawers for all to see?"

"I wouldn't be cruel to the other students and subject them to the sight." James spat.

"You bite," she mocked. "But have no teeth. Forgive me if I'm not crushed by your petty insults." She turned to Peter. "Your classes are going well?"

"I-I-hope s-so." Peter stuttered.

Her smile was feral. "As do I. Remus." As she turned to the thin, brown-haired boy, the contempt faded away into respect, if Beryl was capable of such.

"Hello, Beryl," Remus greeted mildly. "You are well?"

"As I ever am," she replied, dismissing the query. "You are looking quite pale, my dear. The moon waxes?"

"It does."

Beryl put a gloved hand on his shoulder. "We are different, you and I. There are some who take it as a curse. I prefer to see it as a blessing."

"How can I find a blessing," Remus growled bitterly, "in something that brings me nothing but pain?"

"But through pain, do you not find great freedom?" Beryl inquired. "Month after month, do you and your friends not roam the dark, even as your freedom risks the pain of others?" She sighed, and patted his shoulder once before withdrawing her hand. "But I suppose you should enjoy it whilst you can. The time for such frivolty will soon draw to a close."

"Clever," Sirius commented haughtily. "Did your ghouls tell you that?"

Again, Beryl laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. "As arrogant as ever, are we, Sirius?" she asked rhetorically. "The spirits tell me many things. But I find this from a rather different source."

"And what is that?"

"I read the newspaper," she replied. "Dark times approach." She slipped a hand into a pocket and withdrew a stack of tarot cards. "Take a card, Sirius. Glaring with intense dislike, Sirius reached out a hand and drew a card from the deck. When he moved to look at it, though, she shook her head. "Take another before you look," she scolded lightly. He drew another and flipped the cards.

"The Lovers," he seethed, "and the Fool." With a look of scorn, he threw the cards into the dirt. It was a blatant dismissal.

"So be it." Beryl told him, and vanished with a pop. The black raven took to the skies overhead.

Peter shook his head. "She gives me the creeps, James."

James sighed. "Me, too. And I'm related to her."

Remus shook his head. "Honestly, James, Beryl isn't that bad."

"Well, Moony, since you're such good friends with her-" Sirius began scathingly.

"There are very few among Beryl honors with the title of 'friends'" Remus interrupted mildly. "I don't presume to name myself one of them."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond, but James glared and shut him up. With a last resigned look at the sky, he started to walk again. "Come on, it's getting dark." Nodding their agreement, Remus and Peter followed as he started back up the path.

Sirius turned to go, too, but stopped abruptly. There, lying in the dirt, were the Lovers and the Fool. He picked them up cautiously, examining the rather lewd, elaborate illustrations on each.

"What are you waiting for, Padfoot?" James called.

"Coming," Sirius responded. On impulse, he stuffed the cards in his pocket and hurried to join his friends.


End file.
